


When in Paris

by psychotraumatic



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Idols, M/M, PWP without Porn, Softcore Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotraumatic/pseuds/psychotraumatic
Summary: The way that Gucci look on you amazingBut nothing can compare to when you're nakedTomorrow comes and goes before you knowSo I just had to let you knowSwear to God you're beautiful





	When in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Ideas strike me in the oddest of ways.
> 
> Written to the tune of [Bazzi's Beautiful](https://open.spotify.com/track/1OilOIju6R9ia8vilNjChh?si=e6LZyZg1S-iUicnXF7s1Aw).

As wary as he was about putting on the headpiece, Jongin finds it useful when it comes to obscuring his nerves. He tries his best in greeting anyone who pays him any mind, using what little conversational phrases he knows and hopes he’s pronouncing it right. Sometimes he wishes he had Junmyeon’s ability to understand and articulate, or Chanyeol’s confidence despite his lack of fluency. Heck, he’ll take Baekhyun’s shamelessness at this point.

He manages to fish out his phone during a brief window, quickly typing up a text. He knows the other is likely busy, but he silently hopes for an answer to his distress message nonetheless.

_ How do you do this? _

It wasn’t even a minute when he feels his phone vibrate in his hand.

_ Just smile. You’re pretty and charming. No one will care if you don’t say much. Let your handler take care of it. You’ll be fine! _

Nothing in the reply is new, nor is anything particularly supportive, but Jongin feels a calm wash over him. It almost feels like he’s no longer alone. So he does as told, smiling, posing, and charming his way into anyone’s good favor. It wasn’t long until his handler ushers him to his seat, murmuring about how the show will start soon and to enjoy himself before heading away from the front row.

He rakes his eyes across the venue, watching as other attendees settle into their spots. As a din of excitement echoes among them, Jongin receives another message. It’s a photo this time, cheekily captioned with a _Fighting, Jonginnie!_

Again, it wasn’t particularly uplifting. Truth be told, it has Jongin swallowing a lump in his throat and hoping that no one notices the blush creeping up his neck.

The orientation is wrong, but he wasn’t going to tilt his phone or his head one way and risk someone looking over his shoulder. Jongin heaves a deep breath and takes one last look at the picture.

It was a vase of flowers in the middle of the room. Incandescent lamps casting a romantic glow. It’s a white down comforter on a king-size bed. But mostly, it’s a bare foot that goes up to a muscled leg and a strong thigh, looking all too inviting for him to sit still.

And as he watches models strut past with seemingly rapt attention, all he can think about is going back to his hotel and sinking into Oh Sehun’s embrace.

  


°×°×°×°

  


It’s late when he gets back, weariness from jetlag and busy schedules catching up to him with a yawn. His eyes register the dim glow of the room, lights turned down with just enough brightness for him to see where he needs to go.

He shrugs out of his jacket, dropping it to a heap on the floor. He kicks of his shoes, toes off his socks. He sheds his layers and leaves a trail. Their stylist is sure to reprimand him if she could see him, but her scolding is the farthest thing from his mind.

Jongin is extra careful as he takes a seat on the bed, hiking a leg up on the mattress so he can drink up the scene before him.

The low light from the lamps cast shadows across Sehun’s sleeping face, somehow giving the scar on his cheek more prominence. It’s an imperfection he’s all too familiar with, recalling how he used to press his lips against it to kiss away the insecurities it came with. With the clarity of those memories playing in his mind, Jongin leans down to drop a kiss to his cheek, breathing in his boyfriend’s scent before slowly pulling away.

He lets a soft gasp out when he notices how Sehun’s eyes were open, half-lidded with sleep.

“Hi,” he greets, voice gravelly from having woken up. “Long time no see.”

“Miss me?” Jongin teases once the shock wore off, taking a sideways glance at the bedside table.

There’s a shy smile on Sehun’s face that provides a stark contrast to what the room has seen before his arrival. Jongin is sure his boyfriend is tinged pink, wishing he had more light to see it on the other’s pale skin.

“I wanted to be ready when you came back,” Sehun reasons. “But I fell asleep.”

“You’re tired,” Jongin states.

“Never when it comes to you.”

Jongin lets himself get pulled down, crashing against Sehun’s chest before a pair of searching lips meets his. He melts into a sigh at the familiar feeling, hands coming up to steady himself against the mattress.

“I missed you,” he murmurs in between.

“Show me.”

This, Jongin knows. There’s no second guessing, no shyness, no anxiety. He’s memorized every part of Sehun just as the other knows every part of him. And he pours all of that familiarity into a kiss.

Jongin blindly reaches for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, breaking away from Sehun’s lips to open it. He grunts when the other peppers kisses across his chest while he’s busy coating his fingers with the liquid.

Sehun sighs softly at the first digit, dropping bonelessly onto the bed to let him take control. Jongin marvels at the sight, taking in how pliant his usually stubborn boyfriend was. He knows Sehun has taken time to prepare himself just by the feel of him around his fingers, but Jongin has always taken pleasure from pushing the limits of the other’s patience.

He pulls away when he hears the hitch in Sehun’s breathing, earning a whine that Jongin muffles with a quick kiss. He plucks a foil packet from a box, eyebrows rising teasingly at the implication of what Sehun hoped to accomplish for the night.

“Hurry,” the other huffs, lips puckering into a pout, eyes refusing to meet Jongin’s piercing gaze.

The push in is careful, purposeful, both once admitting they loved the intensity of that first thrust. There was no need to rush when it was just them.

The night goes slow and languid, catching them in a rhythm of tangled limbs. Jongin swallows every little sound Sehun makes, groans at the feeling of legs wrapping around his waist, revels in the sensation of making love. They fall over the edge to a chorus of  _ I love you _ ’s, sharing lazy kisses as they come down from their high.

When the weariness finally begins to creep its way over Jongin, he can’t help but chuckle lowly. Sehun nuzzles against his chest, nose wrinkling adorably in his sleep. He started the night feeling so much uncertainty. But here and now, with Sehun snuggled against him, he knows how beautiful the night is.

Jongin lets sleep take over him, a smile on his face at the knowledge that he has Sehun to wake up to the next morning. 


End file.
